


Unfinished Business

by olivejuice28



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Co-workers, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:48:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21583291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivejuice28/pseuds/olivejuice28
Summary: Draco struggles to find his place after the war, and finds help in an unlikely coworker.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 18
Kudos: 147





	Unfinished Business

After the war, Draco had battled his inner demons alone while serving thirteen months of house arrest with only his shame and regret and self-loathing to keep him company, his parents in Azkaban, his friends dealing with their own repercussions. Multiple times he wondered what the point of it all was, and seriously wondered if anyone would miss him, or even notice if he was gone. After his solitary confinement was over, he was ordered to find and hold a job for no less than a year before he could even be considered for any sort of parole or reinstatement of his freedom. The first few months had been an absolute nightmare. No one wanted to hire a former Death Eater, or a Malfoy, and seeing as he was both, he had more doors slammed in his face than he could count. He understood, really, and couldn’t blame them for not wanting his shadow to darken their thresholds or their reputations. The types of places that were willing to hire him weren’t exactly Ministry-approved, so he finally threw his remaining shreds of pride and self-respect out the window and groveled at Potter’s feet. He knew, though he had been loath to admit it at the time, that if anyone would have even the slightest inclination to help him, it would be the Savior of the Wizarding World. He hadn’t been wrong, exactly, but the leg up hadn’t occurred in the way he’d been expecting.

While Harry was more than happy to assist him, his department did not currently have an entry-level position available, but he did know someone else who might have one in theirs. Much to Draco’s abject horror and immense mortification, he’d found himself propelled down the hall and directed to a chair across the extremely cluttered desk of one Hermione Granger, who met his presence with wide-eyed apprehension. At first, she had been reluctant to believe that he would consent to exist on the same floor of the ministry as her, much less actually work _for_ her, but after a gigantic serving of humble pie and a stuttered, yet heartfelt apology, he convinced her that he would gladly do whatever she asked of him, if only she would give him a chance.

Miraculously, she had agreed, pending the Minister’s approval, which was granted in the form of a three-month trial period with potential for further employment depending on how it all went. When Draco arrived at Hermione’s office the next day, he found a desk had been squeezed into the corner for him. It was barely larger than a school desk, with a matching, straight-backed, wooden chair, and at first glance he was humiliated and offended and wondered if this was her way of putting him in his place. He should have known better. As soon as she came in, her eyes narrowed in critical disapproval and she shot him an apologetic look, explaining that she had been told that since this was a temporary situation, there was no need to set up a complete workspace. Her countenance displayed her own thoughts on the matter, and he felt slightly bolstered by it; as if he had someone in his corner for the first time in a very long while. This, in turn, caused some serious inner turmoil as he considered the fact that of all people, she should be the last to help him. He couldn’t shake off the weight of his guilt and remorse and spent the first several days in virtual torment, unable to meet her open and honest gaze, or utter more than a few curt syllables in her general direction.

As the days turned into weeks, Draco settled into a routine that, although not exciting or glamorous, did wonders for his mental health and overall outlook on life. He found purpose in the hours he spent pouring over documents and legislation in Hermione’s office. She had carried her passion for all living beings alongside her perfect N.E.W.T. scores and the distinction of being a war heroine when she’d entered the Ministry’s hallowed halls a few months after the Battle, and the powers-that-be fell all over themselves in an attempt to bring her into their ranks. They had created a position and title for her in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures as the Senior Consulting Liaison; the very first of its kind. The job allowed her to meet with and speak on behalf of any and all magical beings that required her assistance, and also gave her access to every bit of archaic policy regarding said creatures, which she was systematically studying, reproachfully questioning, and gleefully opposing as often as possible.

At first, the unlikely pair existed in a stiff but companionable silence, broken only by the brief instructions she gave, or the sporadic questions he asked, or the obligatory salutations at the start and end of every day. She had a habit of beginning each morning with a list of “unfinished business” they needed to tend to before starting on new projects or tasks. Eventually, however, actual conversations started to take place that gave much deeper insight to the people they had each become since their antagonistic school days. Draco found her to be extremely intelligent and thoughtful, brutally honest yet genuinely kind, and almost naively optimistic, at least compared to his own cynical way of viewing the world. Hermione, on the other hand, learned that her new officemate had a hidden fascination for magical creatures, a raving sense of humor, and a level of humility and compassion she never thought she’d associate with him. She quickly became confident in his abilities regarding the work she did, and often left hefty stacks of parchment next to his desk with little-to-no direction, knowing he would tackle it with a thoroughness and competence that matched her own. She often watched him when he was elbows-deep in paperwork, feeling a connection to her former tormentor that she couldn’t understand, and an insatiable need to get below the surface of his stoic façade.

Many times during those first few months, Hermione invited Draco to join her for lunch in the Ministry’s cafeteria, or for a quick spot of tea in the late afternoon. He always declined. At first, she thought he had no desire to spend time with her outside their cramped and cluttered office, but eventually she came to see his refusal for what it really was; self-preservation. He was almost always at work before she was, which was saying something, since she tended to arrive at least thirty minutes before the majority of the employees. He also almost never left before her, which was typically later in the evening than most. By doing so, he was avoiding being seen by as many people as possible, which meant avoiding the sneers, insults, and obvious displays of contempt thrown his way whenever he was in the presence of the general public. She knew he hated himself for the part he and his family had played in the war, and although she knew many, like herself, were willing to give him a second chance, there was still a portion of the population that felt he didn’t deserve to see the light of day. She witnessed one such example as they shared a lift to the atrium one Friday night, both deciding to call it quits slightly earlier than normal and heading for the exit together. As they stepped out into the vast lobby, a random wizard happened to be walking by and did a double-take at their appearance. He stopped and glared at Draco, a disgusted look crossing his face as he turned to Hermione and asked if she was quite alright and did she require any assistance.

Immediately, her blood began to boil and her entire being puffed up with indignation as she coldly inquired as to why he would think that to be necessary. Instead of answering her, the wizard simply sneered pointedly at the tall blonde beside her as if sizing him up, and made a comment about the obvious lowering of the Ministry’s standards if they were letting such scum work there now. Her magic crackled around her uncontrollably as her temper rose, but before she could utter a single syllable in his defense, Draco simply bade her goodnight in a quiet voice and headed towards the exit with his shoulders slumped and his head bowed. Unexpected tears filled her eyes as she watched him depart, while the idiotic employee still standing nearby made another derogatory remark, but before he’d finished his sentence, she rounded on him and let loose a diatribe against him and anyone else who found it acceptable to continue to carry a banner of hate and prejudice after all she and others like herself had fought for. By the time she was finished, a small crowd had gathered and the man who had been her verbal punching bag was pale-faced and trembling, no doubt terrified by the fire in her eyes and the sparks flying from the end of her wand of their own accord.

She spent the weekend fuming over the interaction, worrying about Draco, and trying to come up with a way to help him realize that she didn’t see him in that light, nor did she agree with anyone who did. She also did a fair amount of self-evaluation and introspection, trying to determine why it all meant so much to her. He was a competent coworker, of course, and over the weeks they had definitely formed what she would consider to be the beginnings of a solid friendship, but the hard truth was that the former Slytherin had wormed his way into her heart and had started to mean something more to her than she was ready to admit. While she had never been his biggest fan in school, she couldn’t stand the defeated aura about him, so terribly different from the proud, confident wizard he used to be. She had a lengthy conversation with Harry over this startling realization and found her best friend to be surprisingly understanding and more than a little supportive. Apparently he shared her feelings about second chances, and had also come to regard their former nemesis as an ally. She timidly asked his opinion about a plan she had come up with to help bolster Draco’s self-esteem a bit and he assured her it was a good one.

Monday morning, Draco came to a halt as he crossed the threshold of his and Hermione’s office. At least, he thought he had gone through the right door, but upon entering the space he was no longer sure. He even went so far as to step back out into the hall to take stock of his surroundings, making sure he hadn’t accidentally gone into someone else’s workspace. Determining that he did indeed have the correct chambers, he moved back inside and let his gaze slowly roam around the drastically-altered room. Hermione’s desk was still where it always was, complete with the wall of over-stuffed bookshelves behind it, and the precariously stacked piles of parchment around it. His little desk, however, was nowhere to be seen. Instead, the office had clearly been doubled in size and a second desk, exactly like hers, stood in the center of the new half of the room. It, too, had a wall of bookshelves behind it, but instead of the clutter that took over every available surface on her side, there was one neat stack of parchment on the corner of the new desk, as well as several new inkpots, a jar full of quills, and a small houseplant. In the center of the room were two comfortable looking armchairs, and a small round table placed between them, with tea service for two set out on it.

He wandered over to the desk and saw that the first parchment on the pile was the one he had been working on at the end of the day on Friday. He took that as a sign that this was still his domain, so he picked it up and was reviewing the information on it when his curly-haired cohort came bustling into the room, juggling a paper bag, a small stack of books, and a package wrapped in brown paper in her arms. She stopped short when she saw him and offered him a shy smile with her usual “good morning.” He returned the greeting and then asked what exactly was going on, gesturing to the office in general and watching her intently as she formulated her response.

“Well, your three-month trial period is up at the end of this week, and I told the Minister it was silly to make you work at that ridiculously tiny desk anymore since I knew I was going to keep you.” Her words had come out in a rush and she was chewing nervously on her lower lip as her cheeks flushed pink, her earnest eyes now trying to find something else to focus on besides the blazing silver pair that were boring into her.

“Keep me?” Draco’s eyebrows shot up at her declaration and he felt a mixture of anxiety and elation war within him.

Hermione dropped her gaze to the floor and said in a very small voice, “If you wanted to stay, that is.”

He wasn’t sure why he felt like he had a snitch lodged in his throat, or why he had a massive urge to wrap his arms around the petite witch standing before him, or why it felt like Christmas had come early, but he pushed all those unsettling sensations aside and cleared his throat, causing her to look back up at him. He studied her face, taking in her amber eyes that were so full of hope it took his breath away, and he knew in that moment that he only had one answer for her.

“I want to stay.”

She beamed at him and he felt his heart constrict. He didn’t deserve this; didn’t deserve her or her kindness, but he was selfish and he wasn’t about to let the best thing that had happened to him in over three years be ruined by the lingering guilt and self-loathing that still hung about him like Snape’s bat-like cloak. He’d spent the weekend contemplating quitting, but knew that if he did that, he would, at the very least, be put back on house arrest, and at the worst, get chucked into Azkaban for breaking the terms of his sentencing. While he was used to the kind of attention he’d drawn by the lifts, there was a whole new level of humiliation that came with her being there to witness it. He knew she was furious on his behalf, and he couldn’t bear to stand by and let her come to his defense, so he’d escaped with what little dignity he still had. He had been mildly dreading coming into the office that morning, truth be told, because he didn’t think he could handle her sympathy or pity, but the office remodel had thrown him for a loop and he’d forgotten about feeling ashamed. Instead, he was feeling grateful that he would still have a job after the trial period was over, and a tiny flicker of pride had been lit by the fact that he was apparently good enough at it to impress the Minister. Surpassing both of those emotions however, was the irrefutable happiness he felt over the fact that she wanted him to stay.

“Well, good. We’ve got lots of unfinished business to tend to, not to mention that this would have been a complete waste of money.” Hermione handed the paper-wrapped package to him, then turned and headed to her desk to deposit the other items. He stared at it for a second before cautiously tearing open the wrapping, revealing a brass oval with an engraving on the front.

_Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy_

_Magical Creature and Being Liaisons_

_Established February, 2000_

“It’s for our office door,” she said from across the room, as she attempted to balance the books she had brought on top of one of the shorter stacks of parchment. She wasn’t looking at him, which he was thankful for, because his eyes were suddenly embarrassingly wet and he needed a moment to compose himself. He looked back down at the sign in his hands and was horrified to find his vision blurred by even more tears. Blinking furiously, and deciding to sod it all, he carefully put the gift on his desk and strode across the room and placed a hand on her shoulder. She spun around, her eyes wide with surprise.

“What,” she began, but he didn’t give her a chance to finish before engulfing her in a full-on embrace, the likes of which he’d never given anyone before in his life. He wrapped his arms around her slight frame and buried his face in her hair and tried with every ounce of strength he possessed to not completely fall apart. Although she had clearly been startled by his approach, after a heartbeat or two, her own arms encircled his waist. This reciprocation caused a choked sob to force its way through his clenched jaw, which she responded to by running her hands in gentle circles on his back. His whole body shook as he clung to her, the tears he’d held in for so long running into her soft, honey-scented curls. She whispered soothing apologies for all he had endured, repeatedly promised that it would all be okay, and that she was right there and wasn’t going anywhere.

When the storm subsided, he disentangled himself from her and leaned back against her desk, heaving a great sigh and scrubbing his face with his hands. He knew he must look a mess, and was more than a little ashamed of his emotional outburst, but at the same time felt much better. For the first time in years, he felt like he was worth something again; like he was part of something good and positive; like someone – a particularly witty and adorable someone – saw who he was trying to become and accepted it. She handed him a few tissues, ran her fingers through his hair, and gave him a warm smile.

“I have something else for you, if you’re up for it?”

He chuckled, sniffed loudly and nodded, looking sheepishly at the floor. She reached into the paper bag she had been carrying when she arrived and handed him a small cardboard box. Opening it, he found a neat row of little cream-colored rectangles of thick paper. Plucking one out, he read the same text that was on the plaque, now printed in glossy black script.

“They’re business cards,” Hermione explained, “to give to potential clients, or people you meet with who might need our services.”

Again, he was at a loss for words, unaccustomed to such a generous display of support and belief in his abilities, or even in himself as a person. Instead of attempting to put his overwhelming thoughts into words, he simply pulled her in for another hug, causing her to giggle, though she didn’t protest. In fact, she settled right in, resting her head on his shoulder, her hands looped around his waist as he slouched on the corner of her desk. They stayed like that for several minutes until he was able to manage to speak.

“Thank you,” Draco’s voice came out hoarse and ragged, his cheek still resting on top of her head.

“You’re welcome,” she replied quietly, giving him a small squeeze.

After a few more minutes, he shifted her slightly away from him so he could look her full in the face. Her expressive eyes were studying him with an intensity that caused his breath to hitch and he allowed himself to get lost in her for a second or two. She drew him out of his stupor by placing a hand on his cheek and giving him a small smile.

He cleared his throat and tried to wrangle his overwrought emotions into coherent words. “I can’t even begin to explain how much I appreciate all this….how much it means to me.” His eyes started to prickle again but he forced himself to maintain her steady gaze. “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have a job, or a reason to get out of bed every morning, or honestly,” he heaved another weighty sigh, “a reason to even still be alive.” She gasped and her own eyes filled with tears at his unexpected confession. She had known he was miserable, but she hadn’t known how deep the despair truly ran, apparently. After almost three months of working side-by-side, she couldn’t imagine not seeing him every day and the thought of losing him caused her heart to ache. He continued, “You have given me so much, Hermione. You’ve given me a sense of purpose and a good bit of self-worth, and you will never know how much that means to me. I’m nowhere near who I truly want to be, and I don’t know how long it will take for me to get there, but I hope you’ll… you’ll keep me… as you put it, until I do.” He gave her a nervous, lopsided grin as several tears made their way down her face.

She nodded, returning his smile with a slightly watery one, and moved back into his embrace, settling her head on his shoulder again and huffing a small, contented sigh. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and tightened his arms around her. Yes, she would keep him for as long as possible, since she had a feeling they had a great deal of unfinished business to tend to.

**Author's Note:**

> This one is more open-ended than my other ones, but I love the possibilities that exist for them. Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> *Would love for you to check out my chapter fic, “A Thousand Words” (still in progress 😊) and my Country Magic series. All Dramione, of course ❤️*


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